Cirque de la Vérité
by Remilly
Summary: AU Love kindles in the circus of Hell as it has opened it's doors to all who plan to attend! Come in, take a seat, and enjoy the show! Oh, and try not to scream. Rated M for violence, language, yaoi, gore.
1. Chapter 1

_Recommend listening to this band while you read…namely this song: watch?v=KuGMs-IYirM_

"_First, tell me what you _do_ remember…"_

_The man remained silent for a moment, recalling the incident, "… I remember the feeling of grass beneath me; a warm substance covered my entire body. Sight was impossible; I couldn't open my eyes. My chest was numb and my hands groped out at nothing. I fell in and out consciousness, my life was fading; that, I was sure of." He thought a moment, so, if that's the case…how is it that I'm here? _

_Light became bright behind the thin curtain. "I can't do this."_

"Welcome, Ladies and Gentlemen, to the _Cirque de la Vérité_!"

_The crowd was already going crazy. "Why am I doing this? I can't do this."_

"For our first act, let's start off strong. As you know, our former Animal Tamer, my _beautiful_ daughter, has regrettably resigned from her position…"

_Was it really worth it…? It's not like he had anywhere else to go… "Oh, God. I'm going to die. I can't do this."_

"…But do not fret! While the old has moved on, the new generation has risen!"

_Phoenix sweated fiercely, smearing his already sepulchral makeup in his attempt to wipe it with a gloved hand, "I don't have a choice, I guess."_

"So…without further ado, say 'hello!' to our new Animal Tamer, Phoenix Wright!"

Within, the curtain around the middle ring lifted and exposed what was the new Animal Tamer. The hungry crowd cheered for their new daredevil.

The audience was funereally sublime; their macabre faces were twisted with joy, strangely cheery in their supposedly constant agony. Normally, someone would be petrified to see such ghastly creatures enter their sights. Not Phoenix, however, although this was his first time, he felt curiously unafraid of these cadaverous people. That is, if you could _call_ them people, they _were_ demons, the very residents of hell; and they were the only 'people' that would be coming to _this_ circus.

Phoenix felt the air leaving him as stage fright constricted his throat with spectral hands. There were _so_ many of them. _Too_ many of them. He felt his knees buckle beneath him, but somehow managed to keep smiling, and standing. He maintained a toothy, almost embarrassed grin as the Ringleader panned his gloved hand back to the frozen performer.

The Ringleader was an elderly man with slicked back grey hair and a fierce, almost sculpted face. He had piercing dark eyes; they always seemed to be looking at you, glaring. The bright, dancing light of the big tent was almost cavorting off his aged face as he walked to the side of his new performer. He was holding his beloved cane, the head of a grotesque looking creature with sapphire eyes on its top. The older male looked back at him with what Phoenix knew was a fake smile,

"Knock. Them. _Dead._"

He said slowly; his voice was rough and low, a toothy grin across his wrinkled face that would forever haunt the new performer.

After the reveal, everything came naturally. Everything he had learned from training was put for the audience in almost autopilot. The cracks of the whip, the growls of the animal, and even the famous act of putting one's head in the mouth a huge cat flowed out his body as if it were breathing or blinking. Phoenix felt it growing easier to cope without looking at the mass, and do what he was trained to do. The crowd loved their new animal madcap; they cheered wildly, some screamed in fear as the act became more dangerous, the lion growled in bloodlust, and the audience cried out in shrill masses. In the end, the debut of the new animal tamer was a complete and utter success.

Phoenix bowed with his fellow performers, leaving the huge dankly colored tent. The lights died, the people left, and all that was left was the cleaning. The excitement in his heart died as he left the now darkly lit area, he glanced back at the huge tent, noticing yet another hole in the dankly colored fabric. He stroked the edges with his fingers; he been noticing that there were a lot of huge holes in this tent. He vaguely wondered why he never saw them on the inside. Phoenix pondered the tent as he walked back to his trailer. Upon entering the space, he quickly shut the door and fell on his couch. To his surprise, the couch fell beneath him. He was now _in_ the couch, confused and dazed. He groaned and stood,

"_Why is everything in this place so old?" _he thought as he left the trailer a huff. The air on the outside was suddenly freezing. He shivered and sat in the grass beside his hunk of junk trailer, looking at the ground. The grass was dead; brown patches began to eat away at the other, healthier bits like leeches. Also, a lugubrious fog hovered in the distance, impairing the young tamer's vision in all directions. The sky was pitch black, stars speckling the scape. The sparkling masses in the sky were usually something you'd associate with happiness; however, the sky itself emitted a melancholy feeling when you looked at it. The moon hung low and large, its pasty white, alabaster surface was little light on the gloomy area.

The dark haired man wondered subconsciously as to why he went outside in the first place. He played with the dirt thoughtfully; he hadn't been the same since he started working here. Phoenix had often had unexplainable and irresistible urges to come outside in the middle of the night, thinking about nothing really, simply being outside when he could be inside. He rubbed his face against the cold, smearing his makeup further. He looked at his hands, frowning at the black and red substances that smeared his now bare hands.

A chilling wind swept through, causing Phoenix to shudder in his costume. He rubbed his arms in a sad attempt to warm himself; it seemed like he was always cold here. _Here._ Where was _here_? He leaned back against the cool metal surface of the trailer. It seemed that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to remember anything.

"_Where is this place?"_

"_You're meaning to tell me you don't remember…?" The elderly man looked confused, staring with that ever-present fiery look in his eyes._

"_Should I?" _

_He sighed, "Hell, Wright. You're in Hell." He said, rather bluntly._

"_What do you mean…?"Surprise laced Phoenix's face._

"_What do you think I mean…?" The Ringleader was looking more and more confused on just how little the young man knew. He cleared his throat and started again, "I mean you are in Hell, Satan's…playground, if you will."_

"_S-satan's playground…?"_

"_His personal circus. You really don't remember a thing do you, Phoenix Wright?"_

Memories assaulted Phoenix's brain; however, they weren't what he wanted to remember. Just what _was_ it that he couldn't remember? He remembered waking up on a bed in this place, Manfred standing over him like a hungry vulture. Manfred Von Karma, The Ringleader, did not seem to want to tell him anything. He continued to insist he needed rest before "training". However, little did Phoenix know the "training" would be to become the new tamer.

The other performers, however, seemed to recall whatever Phoenix had lost quite clearly. They all seem to know his name; some of them even referred to him as, "Nick", and spoke to him as if they had known him for years. That is, until Manfred had a 'talk' with them. After that, they had all just been avoiding him. This was, all except for one. He avoided the tamer as well, but then again, he seemed to do that with everyone. He was the contortionist, acrobat. He wasn't one of the ones that Manfred had to 'talk' to. His name was Miles Edgeworth. The man himself was a very curious and hauntingly mysterious person; he seemed about the same age as Phoenix, although he was a bit taller than the tamer. The contortionist had striking silver hair, stunning black eyes, and carried himself like a prowling cat, always aware of his surroundings. Holding true to his sociopathic nature, after practice he would return to his trailer, not exchanging a word or glance to anyone; tonight was no different.

In fact, the only time that Phoenix had ever seen Miles interacting with anyone was in his act, with Franziska Von Karma, the daughter of The Ringleader. Apparently, she used to be the animal tamer, switched into the mold on an acrobat, in a breathtaking act with Miles. The woman didn't seem to like Phoenix at all, be it jealousy or something more, that was the only person Phoenix tried to avoid back.

Sounds of movement hit Phoenix's ears, causing him to jump in surprise. He looked up towards the noise; it came from the depths of the thick fog surrounding him. Slowly, a human figure appeared in the shadowy fog. The tamer tried to remain calm, thought he was scared stiff, so he couldn't do anything even if he wanted to. He strained his eyes to try and see who the approaching figure was, as more detail came into shape. Just as Phoenix was about to call out to the figure, it entered his field of clear vision. It was Miles, the contortionist.

The animal tamer didn't say a word until the taller male was in front of him, standing above him. Before Phoenix could even open his mouth to speak, his voice came, it was decorous and stern,

"You did well today."

The tamer was thrown, it was a small, simply sentence, but it made him feel unexplainably happy. He didn't know how to respond, but he managed to choke out a few awkward words,

"T-thank you. You didn't do half bad yourself."

"Mm." He only seemed to be half paying attention, although he was staring at Phoenix with intent, stoic stare.

To his further surprise, the arresting and fascinating man sat next to him, staring him in the eyes. The young performer's eyes were even more stunning up close. The pale light from the moon reflected off of them, creating a sort of glistening feel to them. Phoenix stared deeply into his eyes; there was something written there, a message of some sort, but he couldn't seem to put his finger on what exactly it was. It was strange; he'd only now just met this enigmatic man and he was already enthralled into the want to learn about him. He was so dark, yet so majestic; not to mention his talent was breathtaking. Miles turned to looked at the ground, a sudden uneasy look about him,

"You're very good. You know…" he spoke almost cautiously, "at…taming animals." He rubbed his arms in uncertainty and chill.

Phoenix found himself smiling, it wasn't often he received compliments, or at least, of what he remembered. He played with the dirt again, speaking without thinking,

"Um…" he spoke his mind, "Why are you talking to me?"

He looked up to see a light blush and almost a bit of hurt on the mysterious man's face. He waved his hands; Phoenix realized he was sweating,

"Oh, no, no! I didn't mean to imply I _didn't_ want you to talk to me, I just-!"

He held up a hand to stop him, his composure back as quick as it left,

"I understand. I don't really make conversation much, so I would expect myself to be unaccustomed with it."

The now-blushing tamer smiled softly; something about Miles' polite and blue-blooded manner of speaking was making Phoenix's heart beat hard in his chest. The perplexing contortionist's voice flooded his ears again,

"I just…wanted to ask you something."

"Ask me something?" His heart skipped a beat at what the question could be.

"Yes. Do you mind?" Phoenix almost laughed; was he really asking permission? _It's almost cute…_

"N-no." He blurted, he couldn't afford to visit La-la-land just yet.

Miles looked satisfied as he nodded softly, "Good." Then the awkward uneasy look came back, "Do you..." he paused, anticipation was now bubbling in the tamer's heart; odd foreign feelings swelled in his virgin mind; he had never felt this way before. Is there any way that this peculiar man could be confessing his love to him?

The silver haired performer cleared his throat and choked up uncomfortable words,

"Do you remember…your life before the circus...?"

The tamer felt his kindling hopes shatter; he can't believe he had gotten so worked up. It was a question he'd been asked plenty of times before, even coming from Miles' lips it was a boring phrase. Phoenix sighed and cleared his throat, all the man worried about was his memory. The shorter male turned to look into the eyes of the perfect male in front of him, only to be completely infatuated with his stare. It wasn't just his stare either, it was his hair, his nose, and his…lips. _Oh god, his lips._ They were soft and full, plush against his other hard, powerful features. He quickly banished the thought from his mind; it was outrageous to think he could be in love with a man he'd just met. However, it _did_ feel like he'd seen him before…

"If you don't want to talk about it, I understand. I'll go talk to someone else." He shifted his weight forward to get up, and without thinking, the recently returned to reality Phoenix gripped his arm, a bit more aggressive than he would have preferred but, what the hell, it got him to stop didn't it? What really worried the black haired performer was his voice; it was a bit too loud against the eerie silence that blanketed the circus grounds,

"No!" he yelled, covering his mouth directly after, "I mean…don't go. Stay here. I, um," Miles was giving him a quizzical look; this was not going so well, "Uh…I …don't remember, no. Do you…?"

At this, the dark eyed male raised a questioning eyebrow, shoving his arm away and rubbing the sore bit,

"You're a strange man, Phoenix Wright."

Phoenix felt his heart skip a beat; all he could think to do was to smile, embarrassment was practically pouring from his face.

Miles didn't smile back; instead, he got up once more, without the arm gripping, and turned to leave,

"I have to go. Thank you for telling me what I wanted to know."

The young tamer opened his mouth to object, however, he stopped himself; somehow he knew he wouldn't stop. The fog engulfed the man; his frame but a figure once more.

Just as abruptly as it began, the surreal conversation with the contortionist had passed. The moment had fluttered in and out, leaving the dark featured tamer confused and in denial of his adoration for the odd, enigmatic and striking man. Disgruntled, Phoenix wandered back into his trailer. He glared at the imploded couch and lay on his bed; a petite hammock-like thing was more like it. The thing beneath him was less a bed than he was.

He tossed and turned in the creaky hanging mat beneath him; his mind buzzed of the mysterious man who'd, only hours before, had never even passed him a second glance. It was only then that Phoenix had realized; he'd never answered his question. And why exactly did Miles want to know such a thing anyway? Why hadn't he asked before? Did he remember? The small conversation left more questions than answers, but one thing seemed clear to the young tamer.

He was in love, and there was absolutely no fighting it.

_Cirque de la Vérité_ = Circus of the Truth (French)


	2. Chapter 2

/watch?v=in18ePFMIjc _(Recommend listening to this as you read.)_

The next morning, Phoenix awoke to the sound of a harsh knocking at his trailer door. Still dazed and half in his dreams about the awkward, yet stunningly handsome contortionist, he went open the creaky door. After passing a cracked mirror on his vanity, he noticed he had gone to sleep with smeared make-up all over himself, not to mention he was still in his costume. He shook his head lightly, had he really looked that bad…? Did he look like this when he was talking to Miles? The very thought of his newfound love seeing him in such a manner…it was unbearable. He wiped more of the persistent material; as much as he could manage before reaching the door.

He swung open the door; quickly to prevent needless prolonged squealing. In the doorway, stood a young man with spiky looking light brown hair and a dorky, ridiculous smile on his face. The drowsy man recognized this daft looking male as the lone clown in the circus, Larry Butz. As if his name weren't enough, you could tell just by looking at the guy that he was quite the clown in _and_ out of his costume. He was one of the performers that referred to him as "Nick", a nickname Phoenix curiously believed he'd heard before.

"Morning, Nick!" His smile changed to a look of disbelief, "Wow! You look like a train wreck! Didn't get much sleep last night did you?"

Phoenix smiled politely; he wasn't sure he liked Butz very much. The man was amusing on stage, but off stage he was almost unbearably hopeless in the brain department. The tamer revised his thoughts; he was hopeless in just about every department. The guy was a failure at everything he tried. This was of course, not including acting stupid in front of a crowd. He was amazing at getting people to laugh at him.

"Not really." Was all he said, wiping more make up off his face.

"Well, we've got to go to practice. Ready to go?" The smile had returned; his face restored to its former look of stupidity.

"I've been more ready for other things…" he said this as he walked halfway into his trailer, "Give me a minute." He closed the door before receiving a response from the idiotic man on the other side of the door. With this he rushed to the fractured mirror on his vanity; hastily grabbing a towel and wiping the rest of the makeup from his tired looking face. It was a bit unnatural for the tamer to forget such a simple task; pondering a second what could've caused such a mishap. Just then, memory hit him like a vivid ball of energy. Thoughts of the striking contortionist and their simple, dreamlike conversation flooded his mind like a hurricane. How could he forget such an odd, yet strangely perfect night such as that? It wasn't like he hadn't been spending the _entire_ night dreaming of those gorgeous dark eyes and those breathtaking features.

As if to purposefully disrupt his thoughts, a harsh knocking came to the door, then a swift opening. "Nick! We haven't got all day!" Larry grabbed the still drifting Phoenix from his musing and pulled him out the trailer and down the three steps of the creaky trailer and onto the damp grass. Phoenix, after gasping from the sudden pull, couldn't help but to sigh inwardly. It seemed like everything in this circus was in the fast lane. It all came so hurried; one minute he was slipping in and out of life itself, and now he was in HHHell, acting like a trained monkey for Satan Himself.

He followed Larry aimlessly; consumed in his own reverie of past events. They walked the circus grounds to the 'Big Tent', so called obviously due to its enormous size. The early morning sky was grey; the thick clouds engulfed the sun, giving it a melancholy, jaded color. The dark haired man could hear distant chattering as they approached the smaller tents on their way to the Big Tent. The other performers were all getting ready for practice, creeping their way to the Big Tent, avoiding work by chatting and walking slow.

A soft and almost melodic voice calls to them, "Good morning, Mr. Butz, Mr. Nick!" The voice was unmistakable, it was Pearl, or, as Phoenix liked to call her, 'Pearls', after all, she looked much too adorable to be just one pearl! She was a dancer in the show, her act involved ribbons; she also had a part in which she performed with the fire breather. The tired looking tamer forced a genuine smile; it seemed sometimes that Pearl was one of the only things that were innocent at the circus,

"Good morning, Pearl. How are you doing?" He petted her lightly, in awe at her unique innocence.

"Mm. Not so good." She bit her thumb, a nervous look passing her face as she pondered her dilemma. She looked up at the taller male with a concerned, almost scared look, "You've heard about the recent disappearances, haven't you? It's been happening a lot lately and I'm getting a bit scared…"

"Disappearances?" He looked at Larry, who seemed to know what the young girl was talking about. Why was it that everyone kept _everything_ a secret from him?

"What are you talking about?" He grabbed the girl's shoulders, as if to console her.

She looked anxious, and spoke reluctantly, "Some people have been disappearing lately…they're kidnapped or something and aren't heard from for three days. Then-"

"Their bodies are found. Dead." Larry's face had turned grim; he had interrupted Pearl in order to prevent her from, saying such a grotesque phrase.

Phoenix was slightly shocked, and half knowing that this is where that headed. Stories like this were always like this; usually meant to scare you, nothing to worry about; they were just over exaggerated stories to make news more exciting. But, he thought, why did the new information twist his gut like this? The young tamer felt his stomach do a pirouette, and his heart began pound hard in his chest. He had a bad feeling about this killer.

Larry again began to speak, harshly and stern, "Pearl." Was all he said.

She nodded and wriggled out of the tamer grip, which had tightened since the innards' ballet and jogged her way to the Big Tent. After the girl was out of sight, the now downhearted clown began to speak again, blatant and uncharacteristic spite riddled his voice, "Their bodies are found misconfigured and gutted. The blood dripped clean and their eyes plucked out, even their tongues are cut out. They're basically husks. Skin and sometimes not even bones." He spoke carefully, as if to not say too much, or to not go into too much detail, "And it's not like the killer has a preference. He kills everyone and anyone. Men, women, children, you name it." His fists balled, "It's…" he thought, "…disgusting."

Truth be told, the tamer was stunned. What had caused such a display from someone as seemingly cheery as Larry the Clown? It took Phoenix a bit to realize he was still squatting at Pearl's level. He stood slowly and looked the man in the eyes, "Larry." The clown was physically shaking from anger. Before the tamer could call out the brown haired man's name again, he turned and strode off in an obvious temper. In all the time Phoenix was at the circus, he had never seen the clown act this way; he was always smiling, or crying, usually at some failed attempt to get a girlfriend, but always in a general jovial mood. There was something that was now very real and very terrifying about this 'kidnapper'.

The tamer made his way to the Big Tent, his mind now full of speculations as to who this 'killer' might be. What kind of person would do that sort of thing and for what purpose? Not to mention the clown's behavior was very unusual. Upon entering the large space, he was greeted by sound of a cracking whip and pain. He yelped, looking around frantically to see who had caused the shrill pain. It was the acrobat, Franziska Von Karma. To be completely truthful, the whip looked much better on her than it _ever_ did on Phoenix. He forced a smile, "Ah…hello, Karma…you seem," he faltered, her face was always so scary, "…to be holding my wh-" with this he received another whip to the torso. He yelped; spite laced the speech and face of the blue haired woman,

"Don't flatter yourself, Wright. This was never _your_ whip." With this she dropped the tool to the ground, "Start practicing." With this she strode off and began practicing herself, doing stretches and such.

The tamer rubbed his torso, speaking to no one in particular, "Why doesn't she like me…?"

"She doesn't _like_ anyone, Wright." The voice was at first unrecognizable, and then hit Phoenix like a ton a bricks. It was Miles; the tamer's heart burned in a sudden longing.

The dark haired tamer sweated; his hands shaking as he remembered how breathtakingly stunning the face of his flame. He stuttered as he spoke, "O-oh…! Miles! Um…or do you want me to call you, Edgeworth…?" He faltered, he wasn't even thinking straight, "B-because, you know…you called me by my last name! W-why'd you do that anyway? Does everyone do that here or-"

Miles, again, held up a hand to stop Phoenix from making himself look like a fool, "I prefer to call people by their last names. It's a Von Karma thing."

A look of surprise passed the tamer's face, "You're a Von Karma?"

Miles shook his head, a snarky smile passed his face, making the dark eyed tamer's heart skip a beat, "Oh, no. Don't pair me with them."

"H-huh?" was all Phoenix could think to say.

From then on, the practice session passed without a hitch, and nothing odd happened besides Phoenix's constant swooning for Miles. Watching the silver haired man perform was striking, but watching him practice was incredible. Not only was he closer, but his frustrated face as he made mistakes and got tired was sheer happiness for the animal tamer. Seeing the raw Miles in his barest state was almost too much. Well, he thought, it's _technically_ not his _barest_ state...

He shook the obscene sight from his mind and tried to focus, the last thing he needed was to get hurt during practice.

After practice concluded, everyone began preparing for tonight's show. The tamer left the Big Tent, aching from head to toe, dreading the thought of performing that evening. The tired man concluded that he would get good sleep in order to compensate the night he spent twisting and turning in his hanging mat. He walked back to his trailer, rubbing his back of his sore neck; he'd practiced longer than usual, and all because he'd wanted to see Miles longer. It had seemed that the silver haired male spent the majority of his time practicing, performing, and sleeping. It was odd he was so in love with someone that he'd just met, after all, they'd really only spent a couple of minutes in a _real_ conversation.

The tired tamer pondered if the contortionist shared the same feelings. Surely he would've known by now, right? He had just made it back to his not so favorable trailer before hearing a strange noise fill his ears behind him. It was the faint sound of rustling; someone walking. Whether it was to him or away, the tamer couldn't tell. He looked behind him to find the fog from last night had lifted, and the circus grounds were clearly visible. The heart of the tamer fluttered at the sight of Miles; he was the one causing the noise he'd heard. However, he wasn't headed toward Phoenix, as he was the night before, but away from him, into the thick woods that surrounded the circus. For what reason would a performer need to go into the forest? The suspicious notion of Miles going into the forest was too much for the tamer; he was fueled by love and curiosity.

He proceeded to sneak to the side of one of the smaller tents, and hopped to another tent to get closer. He repeated this process; following the contortionist into the woods and away from the circus. The trees in the shadowy woods shrouded the setting sun, giving the woods a mournful detail as they walked further and further into the woods, the circus was invisible past the trees now. Speckles of light sprinkled the figure of the silver haired contortionist as he walked deeper into the woods; the tamer, meanwhile, was trying his best to not make any noise; his weight in turn, seemed to try its best to do the opposite. What could he possibly want here? Miles continued into the woods without looking back once, even though Phoenix was sure sometimes he'd snapped an incredibly loud stick at times. It was as if no one were there; he continued without regret or concern. He seemed to know exactly where he was going and what his purpose was.

After what seemed like forever, they reached a shed like structure in a clearing. The twilight draped the clearing giving the shed a saddened look; the whole atmosphere was thick as the shed came into Phoenix's view. He felt his stomach do a ballet again, but his heart and longing urged him to continue. Just what _was_ this all about? Why the shed out here was and the business Miles had there was buzzing fresh in the tamer's mind as he carefully followed the contortionist into the shed and down an abrupt fleet of stairs. It seemed the stairs kept winding on and on, dim torches lit the hall dust filled the tamer lungs, but he forced himself not to cough. He hugged the wall, too nervous to walk the steps confidently. The fleet led finally an iron door. Miles had rushed down the stairs ahead of Phoenix and already made his way into the room past the door. The tamer hesitated; he wasn't sure if he should really be entering this place. His heart told him to move forward while common sense told him to go back. They clashed in his mind for a bit; did he care more for Miles or for himself? That was an easy question, he thought, and began to open the already half-open iron door.

The room itself was very large, stone walls and floors were the first thing you'd notice. A low chandelier gleamed lightly on the room. The air billowed from the room and entered the tamer's nostrils; it smelled terrible, a smell that was unspeakably ghastly, so disgusting, that the young tamer couldn't place his finger on whether or not it was fecal matter or something worse. Aside from first impressions, what really shocked Phoenix were the contents on the room. Tables and platforms lay everywhere, atop them saws and hammers, tools one would use in a workshop. In the middle of the room was a platform on a turning axis, much like a hospital bed. On it, laid a thin demon woman, her terrified eyes darted from space to space, looking desperately for a way out. She was strapped down, her breast exposed. Beside her stood the contortionist, a saw in his hand; he gripped her chin and turned her to face him.

He spoke to her as if speaking to a child, "Why don't we get back to what we started, hm?"

"No…! No, please!" she pleaded, "Please…I…no…!"

He shushed her putting a playful finger to her lips, "Hush, hush. It will only hurt if you struggle."

Phoenix could hardly believe what he was seeing, _what_ would hurt…? What was he planning to do?

Miles chuckled a bit, and then turned his attention to the saw in his hand,

"Perhaps we shouldn't do this just yet."

He placed the saw on a table behind him; proceeding to pick up what looked like a silver soup spoon. He stroked the shiny surface lovingly, bringing it to her face. The silver haired man didn't hesitate in his actions. He proceeded to jam the spoon under her eyelid and scoop out the bloody organ. The woman screamed; the intensity of it increased as the contortionist jammed the spoon farther and farther into the eye, the man grunted softly as he tore the fragile nerve endings keeping the eye attached to the brain before finally scooping it out, taking note the soft tissue and blood that encased the small organ. He took the object in his hand and handled the bloody object with care, and then turned to marvel his work. The woman lay panting on the platform; blood cascaded down one side of the crooked face of the demon. The dark featured man wasted no time getting to the other eye doing the same. The contortionist now held both of the demon's eyes in his hands. He leaned in; the frantic blind woman whimpered in terror and pain.

He whispered, "Let's just keep this between us. Okay?"


	3. Chapter 3

_Recommend listening to this as you read…/watch?v=g8mBSNj67E8_

Phoenix ran as fast as his legs could take him. He had no idea where he was going, or how to get out of the forest in general, but it didn't matter. Nothing else mattered in that moment, all that matter was to get away; to get away from whatever nightmare had taken place in that deep, dark hole Miles was cooped up in, gouging out people's eyes and doing only God knows what with them. A part of him wanted to keep running, to get lost in the tall trees and concealing greenery. To lose himself and forget what he had seen, to sugarcoat his newfound agony and return to the puppy love he had indulged himself with prior to the horrific discovery.

Another part of him thought logically; what would a normal person do in a situation like this? A _normal_ person? The tamer could _hardly_ consider _anything_ that's happened to him recently 'normal' on any level. Did Hell even _have_ laws that punished criminals? One would think they'd be praised here; worshipped even. He _could_ turn him in, but what good would it do? A third part spoke up; why turn him in? If you truly loved him, you'd let him go.

_I do truly love him._

Then why would you even think about turning him in? Keep this secret.

_But, it's not right. There's no justice in this._

Justice? When has that ever been an issue? You're in Hell; there is no 'justice'.

The young tamer's run slowed to a walk as he realized just how lost he was. In every direction was endless trees and twilight, thick sweat dripped from his face as his heart beat fast; he'd been running for quite a while. He wandered aimlessly, trapped in his own tormenting and conflicting thoughts; the sun settled faster as twilight turned to night, Phoenix finding himself more lost. The moon hung low, soft light fell against the leaves, stenciling a melancholy picture of a man, astray from his path, confused and in love. Amidst the tall stumps and unforgiving chill, the dark featured man found himself a depression in the base of a tree, just deep enough to fit his tired body. It seemed like hours he had wandered, he wondered if the show had begun without him. He sat himself down into the depression and looked up to the sky; chuckled a bit to himself, still feeling shaken; it came out as a small shudder. The tamer hadn't gotten an ounce of sleep like he'd promised himself.

Tears began to well in his eyes, why, he asked himself, did he have to be the dumbass to fall in love with a killer? The pent up anger and sorrow fell from his face in the form of vile dirge and whimpering. The display lasted until Phoenix had no more tears to give; until he could no longer stand the dreadful headache pounding in his head. What could possibly be the purpose of this torture? The tamer felt himself shiver against the cold; though he had no desire to move. He stared at the damp ground, the eerie silence of the woods embraced him, making him feel as though there was no one in the entire world but he. The woods had always been quiet; no signs of life were here; after all, animals that acted only on instinct didn't need to go to Hell. They didn't need to be exiled like sinners. The voice repeated in his mind, against his headache, as if to further injure him,

"_There is no 'justice'."_

He could've sworn it sounded like Miles.

Miles, oh god, Miles. Could he really say he still loved that man? Could his heart still skip a beat when he spoke? It felt as though his body was having a fight over every notion that had to do with the contortionist. Ripping his feelings and believes apart, reconstructing them, then taking it apart again. Every foundation, every resolve to his new found love was being taken away. He held his throbbing head, and began to shift his weight to stand, he had to get back. After all, the show must go on. He felt his knees buckle; they were weak from all of the running. Had he really ran that much? The tamer felt himself slip back into the depression. Night had matured, and the moon's bleached surface dimmed as a grey cloud shielded it. The darkness felt as though it were closing in, leaving the young tamer to feel helpless in his weak state.

Phoenix felt his tired eyes begin to grow heavy, jaded from the crying. A part of him forced him to stay awake, reflecting the macabre memories in his mind, from Miles' gleeful expression to the blind demon that lay panting on the platform. He couldn't stop thinking about Miles, the same as before, but for a different reason. Fatigue began to caress the tamer to sleep, to dream of his abysmal lament and grisly experience. The lugubrious wind began to settle, ceasing the leaves from the rustling, giving the woods an unnatural silence. The young man slipped into a deep sleep.

Surprisingly, the tamer did not dream of his traumatic experience. He dreamed of something very different, peculiar, for the lack of a better word. The young tamer could not see in this dream, it was as though he were blind, smells and sounds seemed heightened in this sense. He could smell and array of scents, as though many people were with him. They were silent, but there. He could only hear one voice, the sound of it decorous and proud. It was the sound of Miles. The contortionist's voice was clear, yet Phoenix could not make out what he was saying. In the dream, Phoenix could feel his heart flutter at the sound. However, there was another feeling; it was more predominant in this situation.

The tamer found it hard to understand the feeling, his heart beat fast in the dream, sweat fell from his face, could the feeling be anxiety? No, more than that; this was the feeling of fear. A subconscious Phoenix thought of the demon girl and checked to make sure he wasn't strapped down. The dark haired man wasn't, he was actually standing. Miles paused a moment, and chatter began to blossom in the crowd behind and in front of Phoenix. The banter stopped when Miles' voice began again; this time more fierce, his voice grew louder. He was yelling at someone; but who? It took the tamer only a moment to realize the yelling was directed towards him. Miles was yelling at him? For what? The fear nurtured in his chest; what could he have done wrong? Suddenly, something else took root in the tamer's chest. It wasn't fear of anything of the sort. Confidence began its course as the man felt his sweat and shaking stop. Miles kept talking, but something else was happening. He felt his surrogate dream body take control and raise its hand, all in one swift movement, the tamer felt his hand rise to a point; his mouth opened and shouted,

"_Objection!"_

The tamer's eyes shot open as a hand shook him; it was the next day. Aches ran across his body; sleeping on a tree does not do well for your back. The groggy tamer's vision picked up on a man, standing over him, he had blonde hair twisted and tossed over his left shoulder. The younger male wore sunglasses, rings and flashy clothes. On his face lay a smirk, he was looking down to the tamer, an almost fake sympathy adorned his expression. Phoenix recognized this young man as The Attraction. Or in more simple, non-circus terms, a trick cyclist. His name was Klavier Gavin. He and the tamer never spoke much, and Klavier didn't seem to remember his past life either, or rather, not a lot of it, as opposed to the other performers who seemed to recall everything that had happened prior to the circus. He was the life of the party; girls from all around came to see him at the circus. The blonde was a bit too cool for Phoenix's taste, but wasn't a bad guy. How he managed to find him in these woods was beyond him. The attraction leaned in, his German accent thick,

"Guten tag, Herr Wright. You've been sleeping a while. Missed the last night show too; Von Karma is not a happy man." He wagged his finger and spoke as if he were scolding a child.

Phoenix sighed heavily, he'd forgotten all about Von Karma, and his OCD. The man was obsessed with perfection, anything less set him off. The tamer knew that he would get a hell of a lecture for this one. The dark featured man forced himself to stand, his legs were sore now. First it was a bad night's sleep, now his legs hurt. What was next? Klavier raised a quizzical brow at the stumbling man as he attempted to stand,

"Are you going to make it back on those legs of yours?" he spoke almost in a patronizing manner, "Do you need me to help?"

Phoenix waved a hand at him, "No, I'll be fine. I'm just a bit sore."

"What were you doing sleeping out here in the first place?"

The memory hit him like a ton of bricks. The tamer stumbled backwards, as if the words had struck him. The man then slipped back into the tree's depression and put his head in his hands to hide the oncoming expression on his face. He rubbed his face to fake the action of waking himself up; he finally managed to sputter out,

"S-sleeping?" he didn't know if he wanted to turn Miles in yet, hell, he wasn't even completely sure what he was real at all. Furthermore, who'd believe a story like that?

Gavin laughed at this, helping the tamer to his feet again, "Yeah, well, 'sleeping' is not answer Von Karma will want to hear. Seriously, he really blew his lid last night. Franziska had to take your place."

"Is that so?" he was only half paying attention.

"Uh-huh. She was ecstatic. Miles had to perform all by his lonesome."

Phoenix almost physically cringed at the sound of his name, why did he have to keep coming into the conversation? In actuality, Klavier had only mentioned Miles once, but it seemed that once was enough to cause the horrible memory to rear its ugly head again. He changed the subject in desperation,

"How did you find me?"

Klavier answered, leading the tamer off into the forest to make their way back to the grounds, "Well, when the show was over, Von Karma said you had to be found. Everyone was worried, even little Pearl. How could I say, 'nein' to that tiny beauty?" he chuckled, and continued.

The tired tamer was again only half listening, looking around the brightened forest. The wind had begun again, causing the leaves to rustle creating an ambience to the normal eerie silence of the woods. Light cavorted against the ground and the flashy attraction in front of him. The blonde was still talking' the tamer figured he might has well have listened in,

"…but the most worried was definitely Miles. I've never seen him so flustered before!"

The tamer almost froze at the name again; Miles was worried? What for? After all, he must have better things to do then to worry about him. _Like gouge out people's eyes. _Phoenix shook the thought from his head and continued to listen,

"In fact," the attraction started, "he was the one who told me to check here for you!"

The tamer stopped walking; was it true? Could he have known he was following him and sent Klavier to look for him? Why not come himself? It made no sense.

While the taller male stood pondering the conundrums of the contortionist, Klavier had paused in his accented speech to turn to him, "Something wrong?" was all he said.

The daydream collapsed, and the tamer returned to the real world, "H-huh? No, everything's fine."

The two males approached the circus grounds once more. As it was two nights ago, fog had settled in to create an abandoned look to the grounds. A figure appeared in the distance, but Phoenix already knew who it was. He was really going to get it now.

_(German – Guten tag= Good afternoon, or Hello, Herr = sir or mister.)_


	4. Chapter 4

_**NOTE**__: I'm so sorry for the delay in this update, plus not much happens in it, it is unlike me to put an author's note, for I feel you lose the atmosphere I intend for this story…_

_But I felt the need to apologize; I've been very busy lately._

_Anyway, I recommend this song for this chapter… /watch?v=GyfweE5276Q_

Anxiety filled Phoenix as he followed the huffing German back to his trailer, the flashy German trotted slowly behind. In actuality, you couldn't really call it a trailer. A trailer was assuming it was of low quality; calling The Ringleader's 'trailer' a 'trailer' was in the tiny, subconscious, totally and almost disgustingly wrong inkling of a thought that the person who owned it didn't have money. The Ringleader's quarters were more like a townhouse then a trailer, it was of the utmost quality, after all, a Von Karma would expect no less. It was huge, and had more than one large space inside; all of the rooms were adorned with decorations and expensive knick knacks. Something as petty as a door was imposing in the large 'trailer'.

Phoenix had only been in the gargantuan place once, to get yelled at for missing training, (he'd slept in). The duo approached a door, imposing as the rest of the ringleader's things. As they entered, Manfred immediately took a seat in his chair, resting his cane on the side on his mahogany desk; the blonde leaned on the wall beside him. The resting cane was much simpler than his cane that he carried two nights ago, all black with a blue crystal orb topping it, but still imposing. The ringleader's face was calm looking, but his body language said differently, he was most certainly cross. Phoenix entered sheepishly, and smiled nervously at the cantankerous man. He panned a hand out to a low chair in front of his desk,

"Sit." Was all he said, his voice laced with venom.

It took the tamer a moment to calculate what the man was asking of him; he was all out terrified by this point,

"Oh…oh, yeah! Sure, yes, of course!" He sat in the cushioned chair, relieved to get off his aching feet.

The older male gripped the bridge of his nose, he sighed heavily.

"Do you know why you are here, Wright?"

_Why my last name? Why must _everyone_ use my last name?_

"Um," the tamer started, as he thought, dust found its way in to his eye forcing him to wipe it profusely, "I missed the show la-"

"You missed the show last night!" He clapped his hands, as though he'd accomplished something, "Congratulations, Wright, you aren't completely hopeless."

_I'm not going to leave here with my dignity, am I?_

"Listen!" Phoenix started once more, almost wincing as the words slipped from his mouth, "I can explain!"

The not-so-good conscience in Phoenix's head had returned, _"Are you fucking kidding me? You can explain?"_

Von Karma actually smiled at the sudden outburst, as if he'd found something he'd been looking for, "Oh really?" he began, his voice sounded urging, urging Phoenix to continue.

What was he thinking? 'He could explain'? Explain, what? That he missed the show because he was following Miles into the forest only to find out that Miles is psychopathic murderer and then run away and fall asleep on a tree? Yeah, that'll go over perfectly. He wiped his eye again, it was really itching.

"On the contrary, _I_ can explain, Mr. Von Karma." The voice was familiar to Phoenix, _too_ familiar.

The tamer whirled around to find Miles standing in the doorway, and in all honesty, he nearly screamed and huddled behind Manfred's desk. It took nearly all the energy in his body not to do such. Instead, he gasped and shuddered a bit as Miles entered the room and placed his hands on Manfred's desk.

Miles ignored the tamer's odd reaction and stared the grinning Ringleader down. Von Karma chuckled a bit,

"Is that so…? Enlighten me."

Miles stood and turned to Phoenix. The tamer felt his heart beat fast as he walked closer, the decorous man leaned down and whispered into the shivering tamer's ear,

"Go. I'll take care of this."

Phoenix practically leapt from the chair and fled, just before he left, he turned to look behind him. The contortionist had returned to a standing position and was smiling at him. Phoenix was almost positive, just before the door closed behind him, Miles winked.

The tamer stood in the grand room before the office in a daze of confusion and overwhelming terror. The young man shook his head a bit; the sight of Miles had shaken him up all over again. He was shaking like a leaf and sweating like a pig.

He would've stayed shaking in the room for a bit longer, had someone not called out his name, or rather his nickname,

"Nick! What are you doing here?"

The tamer turned to see one of the showgirls in the circus, cousin of Pearl, Maya Fey. She was a short, raven haired and dark eyed girl, who always had a cheery, almost childish disposition and outlook on the world. The tamer liked her, although she could get a bit out of hand at times, plus her talent on the stage was immaculate,

"O-oh, Maya! How are you?" he'd completely ignored the question, not wanting to remember running into Miles again.

The dark eyed girl smiled, "Fine. Just delivering an important message to Mr. Ringleader."

"Oh, I see. You might not want to go in there now though." He choked back his words, he was about to add a, 'there's a killer in there', but that wouldn't go over well.

"Why not?"

"He's busy." Was all the tamer could think to say.

"Sorry, Nick!" she started her way towards the office, "This is really important stuff that can't wait!"

It took every fiber of him not to stop her frantically. He sighed heavily as she walked through the door. After the door closed behind her, the dark haired man turned, and left the Ringleader's quarters in haste.

Outside, the fog still hadn't lifted, making it so the tamer couldn't see a couple inches from his face. Phoenix shook his head a bit as if to make the fog go away. Obviously, it didn't work, the fog stayed and the buzzing thoughts in his brain persisted.

A voice started, making him jump, almost out of his skin,

"Mr. Wright?"

Phoenix whirled around to see the fortune teller; he was a shorter man, with brown hair that spiked in the front, dark eyes were fixed on the tamer, a soft look to the young man's face. The man was in costume, and though his costume looked ridiculous, his talent was undeniable. He claimed the power was all in his bracelet, something about it was different, but the tamer was sure it was modesty.

"O-oh! Apollo…what are you doing here? And you're in costume…"

"I'm waiting for Klavier." His expression turned cross, he'd been waiting a while, "We're supposed to go to the Outer Ring today. We're going to spend all day there, so I won't get a chance to change. Where were you in the show last night? Von Karma was pissed."

At first, the tamer was thrown as to why Apollo would want to see the attraction, and then he remembered they'd been dating a while. Another moment was taken to remember the Outer Ring.

The Outer Ring was a section of Hell in which the demons thrived, humans were welcome, and were treated as somewhat of tourists. The Outer Ring, or The Ring, as some people called it, was the literal embodiment of a 'tourist trap'. It had shops and rides and even a small circus, much like the Vérité, but much smaller. People whom were dating often went there to have fun.

He stammered as he went to answer his question, there was still no way he could tell what he'd seen, "I….slept in." he wiped his eye again. It was really bothering him now.

The fortune teller didn't look convinced, he raised an eyebrow, "You're very jumpy today, Mr. Wright. And you wiped your eye just now, why's that?"

"Dust. It's, uh, dusty in there." He chuckled nervously.

"I doubt it; Von Karma keeps that place spotless. Very unlikely you'd get dust in your eye, don't you think?"

"I-I guess…you're doing that perceive thing again aren't you?" Apollo had a strange ability to see someone's nervous twitch and deduce why. Phoenix felt himself panic as the shocking realization came; if this kept up, he'd have to tell Apollo. The tamer had to get out, to escape, he couldn't tell, not yet.

As if to answer his pleas, Klavier exited the 'trailer' and latched to Apollo's arm, kissing his neck, "Herr Forehead, I have returned, to The Outer Ring we go, ja?"

"I told you not to call me that…" he started, but Klavier pulled him towards the Vérité's exit.

"See you at the show tonight, Herr Wright. You _will_ be there won't you? No sleeping this time?"

He wiped his eye once more, he could envision the blind demon again, there wasn't ever any dust, it was the subconscious memory of the demon. Apollo _was_ good at this. The young tamer didn't reply, allowing the two to walk into the fog, Apollo passing him a suspicious look before drifting out of vision.

Phoenix had escaped for now, but he knew eventually, he'd have to tell. The door behind him opened again, starling the already on edge Phoenix.

"You're still here?" it was Miles again.

The tamer felt his heart drop, he was going to faint. He couldn't even answer; it was as if he were being choked.

Miles walked towards, him starting to speak again, "Anyway, we have business together."

Phoenix was almost positive that he looked more than terrified, but how was it the contortionist didn't notice? He still couldn't speak, but he thought hysterically, _Business? What kind of business would I have with a killer? Certainly none! I'm going to die, he's going to kill me, and gouge my eyes out!_

Miles actually chuckled, scaring Phoenix even more, "Don't worry," he started, smirking at the tamer, "I don't bite. Much."

"Where are we going?" was all he managed to blurt out, he was surprised just how much his voice cracked.

"To the Inner Ring, we have some business with you know who."

Now, the difference between the Inner Ring and the Outer Ring was definitely a big one. The Outer Ring was fun, had all sorts of characters and was surely a place you'd want to spend your day. The Inner Ring, however, was a place of business, a bleak, boring and shockingly gray place in which the big shots had meetings and businesses did their work. The Outer Ring was affectionately nicknamed as The Ring; however, The Inner Ring had no such nickname, most people called it by its full name, no matter what.

"I know who…?" he was sweating like crazy.

"Yes." He said simply, "You know who. We have to pay rent."

Rent. The word was almost foreign in his state of panic, and then it hit him. 'You know who' must be _her_. The only woman anyone ends up paying their rent to.

"Oh." He mumbled, "We have to go…" he paused, dreading the thought, "t-together?"

"You're your punishment, Von Karma says."

_And what a terrible punishment it was! Forcing me to go to one of the most dreaded places in Hell and with a murderer! What did I ever do to get such a terrible fate?_

"My punishment…? For what?" he winced as the words left his mouth, how could he be so stupid?

Miles raised a brow, "Surely, you are kidding, Wright?" he began to walk away from the tamer urging him on, "Are you coming? The faster we get this done, the faster we are out of there and maybe…" he smiled, a light blush appeared, "Take a trip to the Outer Ring?"

Phoenix actually blinked a few times; did he just get asked out, and by a murderer at that?

He followed cautiously behind; the fog entrapped them both,

They made their way to the infamous Inner Ring, to meet _her_.


	5. Chapter 5

The train's smell was terrible. The stench reeked like someone's upset and piss. Children laughed and ran amok in the hall of the train next to the room that Miles and Phoenix had claimed. Phoenix's eyes remained fixed on the scenery of mostly fog outside, while Miles vision kept his gaze trained on the tamer's person, much to his dismay. The duo were wearing the clothes appropriate for meeting with the rent collector, the girl had some sort of obsession with regal and Lolita clothing. The contortionist fashioned himself with a red blazer and cravat, a white blazer beneath it with lace at the end of the sleeves. His pants were the same wine red color as his blazer, and his dress shoes a coal black. Miles had a top hat upon his head, its color looking the same wine red to match his pants and blazer. Phoenix didn't like cravats, so he wore a blue suit. The same lacey dress shirt beneath it, white gloves and a red thin bowtie. His shoes were black as well, though somehow Miles' were better. Phoenix also had a top hat, though its color was blue. The tamer shifted awkwardly, crossing his legs to and fro, back and forth. The sound of the train was enough a sound to keep it from a painful silence, though it wasn't enough to keep the contortionist from keeping his mouth shut,

"Wright." He started, causing Phoenix to nearly jump from his skin, much as he had many a time before,

"Yes?!" The tamer almost wanted to smack himself, must he speak so loud?

"You've been to go see her before, right?" Miles spoke, however it took the tamer a while to register what had been said. He thought briefly who _she_ was, but remembered quickly enough to release a disapproving frown at her mention.

"Her? Oh, no, sorry." He tried to keep the conversations brief, however Miles wouldn't let up.

"No? You're most certainly in for a surprise."

"Why?" Phoenix began, his voice more shaky now, "What's wrong with her?"

"Well, she's evil, basically."

Phoenix's thoughts took the better of him, and he blurted out what he thought, if it weren't already clear on his face, "More evil than you?"

Miles stared wide eyed, and Phoenix looked back with the same stare, then busted into laughter of disbelief, though, much to his surprise, Miles began to laugh with him. Upon hearing Miles laugh, the tamer stopped laughing entirely. The contortionist's laughter died out, and he spoke while wiping a tear from his eye,

"More evil than me? Yes, most certainly. I don't consider myself very evil, you know."

_You don't consider yourself evil?! Someone is surely playing a trick on me! _Phoenix almost scoffed, but swallowed it and smiled weakly. He then darted his eyes back out the window. Much to his surprise, the world outside the window had changed from its previous dreary demeanor. Color had gripped the land, and the fog was virtually nonexistent. Outside of the car was The Ring, the sound of screaming in joy and the smell of food leaked through the train's weak structure. And just as quickly as it had begun, it was over. The tamer had only a mere glimpse at the world of fun and paint before rain had begun to pour once more, as if the fog weren't enough to make the scenery more interesting. The train was plunged into a world completely opposite of the one just before. This is what they called The Inner Ring. It's buildings were bleak and gray, and were made entirely of stone. Soft lights flickered in the distance, none of the buildings were very high if you went by these lights. The tamer willed blankly to himself that the rain would stop before they reached the train station. Much to his grief however, the train began to lurch to a stop. Miles looked around his person, readying himself for leaving the train. He picked up the umbrella by his side, which adorned the same red color and had a blue string tied around it's handle. The ends of it were lacey, and it looked as though it wouldn't do much good against the rain. Phoenix wondered as they approached the leave-taking door of the room, if him and Miles would have to share the umbrella. The thought terrified him, and he frantically checked his person for an umbrella, only to find that he had forgotten his. The urge to slap himself came again. He spoke, although he will always be unsure as to why, "Miles!" At this, the contortionist looked back. The tamer's heart now fell to the floor in his piercing gray gaze. He found words to speak, though he wasn't sure where they came from,

"I forgot my umbrella."

"Oh, is that so? Very irresponsible of you, seeing as to where we are." Miles chuckled a bit, "Anyway, we may share mine." The contortionist led him out into the hallway, and towards the exit.

Miles walked out into the rain first, his umbrella shielding him astonishingly lovely from the downpour. He held out his hand to Phoenix, a smile upon his face as he invited the tamer under the umbrella. Phoenix smiled shakily back and took his hand, coming under the canopy that was the instrument. Just as he stepped of the train, a shrill scream was heard to their left, causing the tamer's natural instinct to look over and see what had caused it, while Miles seemed to look only because Phoenix was paying attention to it more so than to him. It was a man whom had left the train without an umbrella. The rain drops hit him, leaving a burn mark wherever they lay. He screamed in pain, and writhed against the onslaught of acid sheeting down onto the ground and unto him. No one made a move to help him, how could they? He was already gone, and even Phoenix knew such. The tamer held a single hand to his mouth and looked away, back to the contortionist, who, much to the tamer's surprise, had a smile on his face as he watched the man dwindle in life and death beneath the sheet of perilous shower. He turned to Phoenix, who was giving him an odd look and began to speak,

"_I have almost forgotten the taste of fears, the time has been, my senses would have cooled to hear a night shriek, and my fell of hair would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir as life were in 't. I have supped full with horrors. Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts, cannot once start me._" He then smiled again.

The words buzzed in his mind as he attempted to understand them, but ,"What are you talking about?" was all Phoenix could think to say.

"It's Shakespeare. Macbeth. Ever read it?"

"No."

"Ah." The contortionist seemed defeated in his reference, and began to explain, "See, I've been here all the time, before you, of course, and every time, someone neglects to bring an umbrella. The rain here is acid, and without a special umbrella," he twirled his as they walked, "You would be dead, much like that man."

Miles motioned to the man, however, Phoenix could not bring himself to look again as they left the station and walked onto the cobblestone streets, "Okay..." he accepted that much, "But why Shakespeare?"

The contortionist laughed, "Well, in the scene I quoted, Macbeth is already an evil tyrant, his wife, Lady Macbeth, has grown extremely guilty from all the people they'd killed to get where they were now, and had killed herself."

"Yikes."

"Yikes is right. Anyway, her servants find her and scream, however the screaming doesn't scare Macbeth. He says that line as if to say, 'I've seen so many terrors in my life now at this point, now nothing scares me.'"

"Oh...I see." What else was the tamer to say to such a notion?

"Yes. Come along, we aren't much farther from our destination."

Miles walked quickly, looking down so not to make any sort of eye contact with the demons on business trips. Phoenix tried his hardest to keep up, while staying away from Miles at the same time, but it never seemed to work. The streets were dimly lit, and it seemed as though it were always nighttime. The duo stopped at what looked like a toy shop. A large glass window looked into the equally gray structure to see an array of children's toys, teddy bears and small trinkets of all sorts lined the shelves, along with a coat of thick dust. The only thing not covered in dust would be the bowl of tempting convections on the desk in the front. Miles walked to the door, knocked a couple of times, and then opened the door, a shingling of a bell signaling their entry to the antique place. Miles closed the umbrella and put it into an umbrella holder at the door.

"Excuse me?" Miles began, "Anyone in here?"

Phoenix began to follow Miles as he walked, however kicked something on the ground. He looked to the ground to find an envelope of red and black color, beside it the box that he had kicked. It was a small present, the box black and ribbon red. He picked it up and opened it, the inside a letter colored just like it's envelope. It smelled of flowers of some kind, and was written in beautiful handwriting. Feeling no desire to notify Miles of it as he left the main room in search of _her_, he reads the letter quietly to himself,

"_Hello, Phoenix._

_I am simply mortified that I am not able to be in your company as something has come up, however make yourself at home until my substitute rent collector arrives._

_He is not as nice as I, though his assistant is lovely. She reminds me of myself, however more weak. He reminds me of you. Do you think that means I'm to be your assistant? Hee hee. _

_Anyway, a few house rules:_

_DO NOT TOUCH MY TEDDY BEARS._

_DO NOT TOUCH MY TRINKETS._

_DO NOT TOUCH MY CANDY._

_I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU._

_The box is okay to open and take whatever may lay inside. It's for you from me. _

_You may touch the floor and chairs. I don't mind of you sit on them._

_The desk is okay too. You can sit if you want._

_You may breathe the air as well. That's okay._

_Not that that's cleared up, I must say sorry again for not being able to meet with you personally. Give the substitute your money and go home._

_With some love and hugs, your lady."_

Phoenix shuddered as he read the letter, and then picked up the box. _It wasn't heavy_, Phoenix noted as he shook it. It made small noises against the box. He opened it to find a necklace. The necklace was gold, with a glass heart at the end. In it, a liquid swilled around. Phoenix's brow crinkled at the odd gift. He then looked up to find that Miles was nowhere in sight. The tamer panicked a bit, but called out to Miles normally enough,

"Miles?" he started, creeping farther into the toy shop, "Miles? Where are you?"

"Excuse me?" Miles began, "Anyone in here?"

The contortionist waited a bit for an answer, however when he didn't receive one, he began to walk to the back room in search of _her_. He left Phoenix in the main room and walked into the back room behind a curtain. Inside this room, there was a bedroom. The colors were of white and pink, lace the most prominent feature of the things in this room. The room was void of dust, and was well kept. It smelled of tea and flowers, and the bed had a canopy above it, curtains covering whatever may lay in the sheets. A bowl of candy and a tea set lay on a nightstand beside the bed. Miles' human curiosity caused him to open the curtain, only to find that nothing was sleeping there save a small letter in a pink and white envelope and a large present, its box pink and its ribbon white. He picked up the letter and examined it, it saying nothing on its outside. The contortionist opened it, curious as to what would be held in the petite envelope, as much as what could be in the box, he opens the letter. The letter was of pink stationary and smelled like tea. It was written in gorgeous handwriting. He reads it to himself,

"_Hello, Miles._

_I am simply mortified that I am not able to be in your company as something has come up, however make yourself at home until my substitute rent collector arrives._

_He is a respectable man to be sure, and is amusing due to his mastery of disguise. Don't let him fool you! He is not what he appears. He also has a very ugly assistant. Don't gaze at her too long. Ha ha._

_Anyway, a few house rules:_

_THE BED IS NOT FOR SLEEPING. IT'S MINE._

_THE TEA IS NOT FOR DRINKING. IT'S MINE._

_THE CANDY IS NOT FOR EATING. IT'S MINE._

_I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU._

_You may open the box though, that's yours._

_In the main room when you return to it, the floor and chairs are yours for now._

_The desk in the main room yours for now too. You can sit on it if you want, I suppose._

_The air is yours to breathe as well._

_Not that that's cleared up, I must say sorry again for not being able to meet with you personally. Give the substitute your money and go home._

_With no stabbing or mutilation, your lady."_

Miles simply raised an eyebrow to the letter and looked to the box. He picked up the box and shook it lightly. Something was in there, though he could not tell what. The contortionist opened it to find a gun inside. Miles blinked and looked around. He didn't want anyone to see him with a gun, that would look odd. He picked up the gun from the box, and examined it further. It was loaded, though two shots were already discharged from it, and a tag was tied around the trigger guard. The tag was a pink color, written in white. It read, "DL-6". The combination of symbols meant nothing to the contortionist, and he wondered why _she_ had given it to him.

"Miles?" he heard Phoenix calling out to him, "Miles? Where are you?"

He was about to call back to notify the tamer of his whereabouts; however the gun weighed heavy in his hand. He looked to it, and hid it in his blazer before reentering the main room.

"Miles! There you are." Phoenix still felt no desire to tell Miles about the box and letter, and the same goes for Miles.

"She's not here." Miles said, barely above a whisper, "The substitutes are on their way."

"I know."

"You do?"

Just before Phoenix could answer, the bell rung again, and the two substitutes walked in. One was a burly man, dressed in clothes very inappropriate compared to the attire of Phoenix, Miles, and his small assistant. His skin looked sunburnt, and his hair largely resembled Phoenix's. His petit assistant was dressed in a black dress, and had a bandage wrapped around her darkly haired head. The man stepped forward, his stature much larger than the two men in front of him,

"Good evenin', gentlemen. The name's is Furio Tigre, and this is my assistant, Viola Cadaverini." He panned a hand to her, and she waved.

Miles, being the braver one, spoke first, pulling a white envelope from his blazer, "And good evening to you as well. Here is the payment we owe."

He snatched the envelope and opened it, counting what was inside, "Seems to be all of it. I'll take this to the lady, you both scram before I get sick a lookin' at your faces."

Phoenix walked quickly towards the door, and got growled at as he passed by Tigre's side, causing him to jump. Upon reaching the door, he pulled the umbrella from the holder, and urged Miles along. Miles walked slowly passed the duo, Violetta waving to him and snickering a bit before the both of them disappeared into the back bedroom. Miles took the umbrella from Phoenix and opened it, leading them out and into the cold and rainy streets once more. The walk back seemed much quicker than the first, the two of them reaching the train station just as the train arrived. They boarded the train and walked into a room, closing the door behind them. The tamer sat down, the necklace now around his neck, though under his shirt so out of Miles' sight. He spoke softly, though still loud enough for the contortionist to hear,

"Where to now?"

"The Ring." He made known, smiling, "You said you'd go with me didn't you?

"Oh." The tamer mumbled, "Right."


End file.
